


Holiday

by bunnyangel



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: 911 Words, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyangel/pseuds/bunnyangel
Summary: A Diaz day at the beach is interrupted by ahotsuspicious stranger.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 146
Collections: 911: What's Your Word Count?





	Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd flash fiction at exactly 911 words.

It's a weekday--both a work day _and_ a school day.

So it's a surprise when a man drops beside Eddie out of nowhere on the super empty beach. He glances over to where Christopher is happily building a sandcastle and back at the grinning stranger.

And then stares at him, because he's _really_ fit. There's not an ounce of fat on that tapered torso, bracketed by beefy, muscular arms, and those swim shorts are sitting low enough to make his mouth water at the very clearly defined v of those hips. He forces his eyes upwards, but dirty blonde hair, cropped close on the sides and curling on top, and a jaw line he kinda wants to bite is almost no better.

Still...empty beach. Suspicious.

"My name's Buck," the man--Buck--says, cheerful and friendly as he lounges back on their beach towel.

His mouth goes dry; a small jolt of arousal at the way Buck is just stretched out--

"And I don't want to alarm you, but you should really take your kid and leave."

It takes a second to switch gears from low-level attraction to full offense. He scowls and--

"There's about to be a possible gunfight, and you need to get to safety."

His mouth snaps shut and he's turning, but a broad hand on his forearm stops him.

"Easy there. I didn't get your name?"

He doesn't want to give this crazy person his name. He wants to grab Christopher and go, regardless whether it's true or not.

"It's Eddie," he finally grits, when no amount of twisting will make Buck let go.

"So, here's the deal, Eddie," Buck says with a wide grin on his face. It rankles something fierce. "You're going to laugh because I said something hilarious, and then you're going to call your son over here, and _then_ you can pack up and we can go."

There's a small thread of worry weaving in between the anger and adrenaline, because _what_?

"Laugh, Eddie," Bucks prompts.

He does, even if it's a bit strained. Buck laughs too. "Doin' good, buddy," he murmurs, angelic smile still in place.

Eddie turns away from it, unnerved.

"Christopher!"

When his son looks up, he gestures, fighting to keep his face from folding into any of the feelings churning his gut. He helplessly scans their surroundings before a calloused finger on his chin directs his gaze back.

"Don't," Buck says softly, ignoring his glare and leaning in too close; a mimicry of coy intimacy. "I promise, both of you will make it out of here just fine."

"Daddy?"

Buck lets go of him and grins widely again. "Hello, Christopher!"

"Hey, buddy," Eddie says, trying and probably failing to smile. He pulls his son into his lap and feels the better for it. "Say hi to my friend, Buck."

"H-hi Buck!"

"Listen, mijo," he says, hugging his son tighter. "I'm feelin' a little fried, how about we call it a day and get some ice cream. How does that sound?"

Christopher looks up at him, face twisted in confusion. "B-but we just got here."

"I know, mijo. We'll come back another day, okay?"

Christopher frowns, but the siren call of ice cream wins out as expected. It doesn't stop him from adding, "can I get two scoops?"

The bubble of fondness that wells in him spills over into a real smile.

"If you help me pack up, maybe."

They pack everything back into the wagon, and Buck inexplicably takes the handle, leaving Eddie to hold his son.

As they head up towards his car, he keeps a wary watch on both their surroundings and the man beside them. There are no suspicious characters lurking and there's still a pleasant expression on Buck's face. He wishes he could see beneath those sunglasses. He wishes he hadn't chosen today to take his son out of school.

"I'm really sorry about ruining your holiday," Buck says, and, strangely, it actually sounds like he means it.

He doesn't have the words to respond, however, just concentrates on walking naturally and not hunching over in protectiveness or breaking into a run for safety like he wants to.

He also doesn't ask the questions floating around in the back of his mind, namely _who the hell are you_? He's not sure if he wants to know.

He startles when a hand stops him, eyes snapping over to its owner--whose smile is finally gone--before once again taking in their surroundings.

For a minute they stand, two men and a child and Buck's fingers tightening around his elbow.

Adrenaline rushes and he's tensed to move and even Christopher is sensing that something is wrong because he's starting to squirm, trying to twist around to see. His truck is _right_ there, they can make it, and Buck is--

Taking off his sunglasses and Eddie's distracted by the most vivid blue eyes that are grim as they study something in the distance and his stomach drops, because oh, that's an actual earpiece in his ear and shit, this might actually be happening--

And then Buck blinks and relaxes.

"Ah, crisis averted." A sheepish smile. "How about that ice cream, huh?"

He stares, because Buck's face is somehow pleading and sorry and hopeful and so unbearably handsome and adorable all in the same breath and he _really shouldn't_ and this is a bad idea, but he _had_ been trying to save them and--

He sighs. "You're buying."


End file.
